Am in for a cold. Spent the whole day at the office sneezing. In the evening, the cold being intolerable, sent Sarah out for a bottle of kinahan. Fell asleep in the arm-chair, and woke with the shivers. Was startled by a loud knock at the front door. Carrie awfully flurried. Sarah still out, so went up, opened the door, and found it was only Cummings. Remembered the grocer's boy had again broken the side-bell. Cummings squeezed my hand, and said:" I've just seen Gowing. All right. Say no more about it." There is no doubt they are both under the impression I have apologised.
While playing dominoes with Cummings in the parlour, he said:" By-the-by, do you want any wine or spirits? My cousin Merton has just set up in the trade, and has a splended whisky, four years in bottle, at thirty-eight shillings. It is worth your while laying down a few dozen of it." I told him my cellars, which were very small, were full up. To my horror, at that very moment, Sarah entered the room, and putting a bottle of whisky, wrapped in a dirty piece of newspaper, on the table in front of us, said:" Please, sir, the grocer says he ain't got no more Kinahan, but you'll find this very good at two-and-six, with twopence returned on the bottle; and, please, did you want any more sherry? As he has some at one-and-three, as dry as not!"
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